This Is My Apology
by loves-fealty
Summary: Make-up sex is better than break-up sex. Written for the KinkMeme prompt: desk!sex


Kent eases open the door to the incident room and slips quietly inside. A look at the office on the other side of the room assures him he remains undetected. It's late and the team has dispersed, the cleaners come and gone; only a single lamp remains on, illuminating DI Joseph Chandler as he sits alone at his desk.

Kent takes the opportunity to observe this complicated man who is not just his boss, but also his lover. He smiles sadly as Chandler attempts to rub the tiredness from his eyes, his fingers moving on to massage his temples, no doubt trying to alleviate a tension headache as he focuses once more on whatever is on his desk.

The unforgiving light from the lamp highlights the paleness of his face and the dark shadows beneath his eyes but Kent doesn't need physical proof of just how exhausted Chandler is; he's perfectly aware of how overworked, underappreciated and frustrated Chandler has been feeling of late, and the sleepless nights he's been experiencing make everything ten times worse.

Things had finally come to a head a week ago when Chandler had suddenly snapped and chastised Kent unjustly in front of the others. Chandler had been forced to sit by and watch while, for a short time, his men's lives had been in danger. The incident had ended relatively peacefully and no one involved had been seriously injured but that hadn't prevented Chandler lashing out at the first opportunity. It had been obvious to everyone present that in spite of the fact they'd all been in the same boat, Kent had been the only one singled out and he'd never felt so embarrassed in his life.

That evening, he and Chandler had fought over it in the privacy of their flat; a rather heated argument which had resulted in the slamming of doors, separate sleeping arrangements and barely a word spoken to each other outside of work.

The problem, Kent knows, is that he's stubborn; prepared to wait for an apology that will probably never come and unused to the harsh realities of a grown-up relationship. Chandler is just unused to being in a relationship, full stop.

So, having decided he's had enough of the unpleasant atmosphere that exists between them, Kent is finally going to do something about it.

# # #

Chandler looks up in surprise when he hears the door open. Kent purses his lips to hide a smile as he enters the small room and closes the door behind him, aware that Chandler will witness him locking it too; something he's never done before.

"Is something wrong?" He sounds slightly worried but Kent ignores the question in favour of pulling the blinds down over the windows, blocking out the rest of the world. "Kent?"

It had taken some getting used to but since their relationship had become more intimate, Chandler had learned to call him Emerson whenever they were alone. He hopes Chandler has only addressed him by his surname now because they're in his office and not because of what has been going on recently; he longs to hear Chandler call him by his given name again.

Kent can tell Chandler is a little wary as he walks over to stand beside his desk but as he shrugs out of his jacket and starts unfastening his shirt, Chandler pushes his chair back and the look of alarm on his face is so comical it almost makes Kent laugh.

"What are you doing?" Chandler asks in a hushed voice, his panicked gaze automatically going to the window despite it being impossible for anyone to see in.

Kent ignores him again. "You shouted at me in front of the entire team," he says, removing his shirt and dropping it on top of the jacket by his feet. "It was thoughtless and embarrassing." He toes his shoes off, and then positions himself between Chandler and the desk. "And it was wrong of you." He's trying for sullen but he has a feeling he isn't pulling it off.

Chandler's eyes are fixed on Kent's long fingers as he undoes his belt and trousers before pushing them, along with his underwear, down his legs. As Kent kicks them out of the way, he takes advantage of Chandler's speechlessness and pulls him out of his chair to stand before him.

"But I'm glad you care," he whispers, wrapping his arms around Chandler's neck and stretching up to kiss him firmly on the lips. Kent is pleased when Chandler responds by running his hands up the bare skin of his back, pulling him closer. They remain that way for a while, soft moans escaping every now and again as the kiss deepens.

"I don't want to fight anymore," Kent murmurs against Chandler's lips, reluctantly ending the kiss as he turns around in Chandler's arms. He feels Chandler take a step back as he shoves some files out of the way and bends over the desk, widening his stance.

"Fuck." The way in which Chandler breathes the word out means Kent doesn't need to check behind him to know the other man has seen the butt plug inside him. They've never even _talked_ about using a sex toy before and he prays to God Chandler won't reject him and send him home, appalled that Kent has chosen their place of work as the location for their first time using one (preparing himself in a police station for anal sex is _not_ Kent's idea of fun; he won't be able to walk into those toilets again without recalling what he got up to in that cubicle nearest the wall).

But Chandler doesn't turn him away; instead, he strokes a hand up Kent's back as he steps closer. "How does it feel?" he enquires, leaning down to get a better look.

Kent closes his eyes briefly. "It feels strange." He wriggles his arse a bit, testing his sensitivity, and groans as the plug shifts inside him. Chandler hushes him and runs a comforting hand up and down his back. "It feels good but it's not enough."

"You want me to pull it out?" Chandler asks, sounding a little uncertain.

"Yes," Kent agrees, making eye contact with him over his shoulder. "Pull it out."

The plug is black and made of silicone. It's not large, but as he feels Chandler take hold of the base, Kent faces forward once more and braces himself. Chandler pulls it, but too gently, and the plug doesn't move.

"A bit harder," Kent instructs, "and twist as you pull it out." He makes himself relax as Chandler gives the plug a firm tug. After some initial resistance, it slips out easily and Kent is grateful he had the foresight to use plenty of lube. However, he hardly has time to get used to the loss before he feels the plug being re-inserted. He moans as Chandler pushes it all the way back in and then out again, repeating the motion effortlessly when Kent gets used to the action.

"Fuck me." Kent doesn't know if he says it loud enough for him to hear but Chandler doesn't stop; if anything he moves the plug faster. It glides smoothly in and out of him and feels incredible but it's still not enough. Kent lifts his arse, hoping to entice Chandler into fucking him.

"Fuck me," he begs, and this time Kent knows Chandler has heard him. He rubs his hard cock against the surface of the desk, aiming for some kind of friction, but it's not working and Chandler continues his assault on Kent's body, teasing him until he's pushing back for more each time.

"Please." He's practically whining now but he doesn't care because finally, _finally_, Chandler pulls the plug out completely. There's a dull thud as it hits the floor and Kent, hearing Chandler loosening his clothing behind him, remains in position. However, to Kent's surprise, Chandler pulls him back up and turns him around. He pushes him back against the desk until he's lying on top of it and lifts one of Kent's legs, reminding him he still has his socks on.

With one of his hands holding Kent's thigh to raise his backside higher, Chandler uses the other to line his cock up with Kent's hole. Kent lifts his other leg up and Chandler grabs hold of that one too as he pushes inside, his fingers pressing hard into Kent's flesh. They both groan when Chandler is buried to the hilt and after Kent's taken a few seconds to adjust, he's urging the other man on, his cotton-clad feet pressing against Chandler's rear.

When Chandler starts to move inside him, Kent rests his head back and closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of being filled so completely. The lamp shines directly in his face, burning brightly through his eyelids, the bulb heating his skin and making him sweat. He turns his face away and when he opens his eyes he sees a pile of red and yellow pins jumping about on the surface of the desk every time Chandler drives into him.

Kent takes hold of his cock and spreads pre-come around the head and down the length. He strokes continuously after that, matching his hand to Chandler's rhythm as he carries on slamming into him, the momentum pushing him away. Chandler anchors him by adjusting his hold on Kent's thighs, unwittingly hitting that sweet spot inside him now with every thrust. Kent can feel himself getting close and Chandler's determined grunts above him suggest he's not too far behind.

The pins are dropping one by one to the floor now. When Kent looks back at Chandler he finds him looking straight back at him, his face flushed and a thin sheen of perspiration just visible in the dim light. Two more strokes and Kent is coming, the other man's name on his lips as his seed spills over his chest. Chandler arches over him just moments later, forcing Kent's legs back and crying out as he comes inside him.

Kent gathers Chandler in his arms as he pulls out and collapses a little shakily on top of him, uncaring of the mess between them. He buries his face in Kent's neck, trying to catch his breath.

Kent is hot and sweaty, his skin sticking uncomfortably to the desk as he begins to cool down, but wrapped securely around Chandler as he is, he has no intention of getting up just yet. He fumbles for the lamp, aiming it away from them, and then embraces Chandler once more, petting his hair and back.

Chandler nuzzles Kent's neck. "Emerson," he breathes reverently against his skin, and Kent smiles fondly, deciding that's all the apology he'll ever need right there.


End file.
